Wednesday's Interlude
by Sun-Tsu Toriden
Summary: Wednesday Shepard (nee Addams) is dead, killed by a surprise attack by an unknown foe. But the rest of her crew is alive. How will they react and move on from the death of someone who has changed their lives so profoundly, whether they wanted her to or not? Rated M for more of the violence and unconventional relationships with canon and reality.
1. Remembering Wednesday

**Update - 30 August 2013: I've recently commissioned a piece of artwork of the alluring and deadly Wednesday Shepard as she will appear later in this saga (though no less hot for doing so!). Uou can find the link in my profile. **

* * *

_This isn't right, it should be raining_, Liara thought as everyone was finally seated. She was in the front row of the official seating next to the rest of the _Normandy_ crew and the Addams clan, gathered together in public in the greatest numbers seen since the last human world war. Not that it ever rained on the Citadel, but the artificial sunlight didn't seem to fit the occasion of an Addams funeral. _But then, most of them didn't know her as Addams, they knew her as Shepard_, Liara reminded herself. So she sat, dressed in the long black silk gown given to her by Morticia, silent as the memorial service proceeded. The eulogies were given by recently appointed Councillor Anderson, Admiral Hackett, Pugsley, Councillor Tevos and even STG Captain Kirrahe. The coffin itself was empty, given Wednesday's body had never been found. Morticia sat next to Liara, holding her hand, but not a tear fell down either of their cheeks, even as the folded Alliance flag was handed to them and the 21 gun salute was fired. Instead, both of them looked sidelong at each other with purpose and dignity.

Finally, the service was over and the crowd began to disperse, which took time given how many mourners had crammed themselves into standing-room only at the back of the Citadel's largest hall. The scene repeated at numerous public screens through the Citadel and Council space at the death of one of its newest heroes. As the crowds finally filtered away, Liara joined Garrus, Tali and the Addams as they filed away in silence to their private ship to take the long journey back to Mindoir.

Throughout the long flight Liara couldn't stop herself from staring out at the void, remembering her last time with Wednesday. A night of exploring just how vulnerable, exposed and excited a woman could be made using only two satin sashes from their robes, followed by a surprise attack by a still unknown foe. Liara could remember being battered around in the escape pod, listening as Wednesday broadcast her final words to anyone who could hear her.

"_Liara... if you... get this... I didn't regret it. You... were worth it... all of it. Only wish... that I wasn't dying... heh"_

She was broken from her reverie by the touch of a cold hand on her forearm.  
"Don't let that memory linger, my dear. Wednesday was full of life, and she would be terribly ashamed of us all if we allowed ourselves to be saddened by her death. Remember her alive and vital, as you would like her to do were your positions reversed. And remember this above all, dear Liara: Death will come for us all, whether we feel we are ready or not. All we can do is laugh in his face when he does, and remind ourselves why we are still alive."  
"Why are you so... nonchalant about this Morticia? She was your daughter."  
"My wonderful Woe isn't the first child I've lost, nor I suspect will she be the last. I do not shrink from Death, and neither should you. But that does not mean that I do not feel. I just know where my emotions would be most useful, and it will not be here and now. No, I will deal with this later. Perhaps you should join me, once we return to Mindoir."  
"I would like that," Liara replied, going back to staring out the window again.

Once back on Mindoir, the Addams and their new alien members filed out to the manor. They were all sombre and respectful as they passed the newest grave in the small cemetery, one inscribed deeply with Wednesday's name. Under hers was a list of other names, ones Liara had helped pick out when she had heard that it was custom among the Addams to list the names of enemies killed by the dearly departed, to remind everyone of a Duty done and a Balance kept. Chief among them was Saren Arterius, as well as numerous others Wednesday had killed during her life.

The sombre mood continued right up until she entered the grand ballroom, whereupon a party atmosphere was encountered. Fester had left Lurch and her mother Benezia, alive but not the powerful person she used to be before Fester 'cured' her indoctrination, to set up the wake for when they returned. When asked, Fester said it was another Addams tradition, taken from old Earth, to celebrate rather than commiserate the death of a friend. Liara was hesitant until she had finished her first drink, when Garrus and Tali began to share their favourite stories about their too-short time with the Commander.

The two dextros, sipping on turian brandy, regaled the gathered Addams with the tale of how Wednesday, while looking for Fist on the Citadel, had saved Tali from Saren's agents. The tale particularly emphasised her use of a knife in his shoulder to steer him, finally using him as a meat shield, all for 'disrespecting Tali as a lady.' Even Liara had laughed at that, it seemed to be a particular quirk that Wednesday had, she wouldn't bat an eyelash if you tried to kill her, but be impolite or disrespectful while doing so, and she'd take it very personally. Often, the place she took it to was her assailant's grave.

"I remember a story, when she first got her biotic implants," Gomez began.  
"Oh yes, I remember as well," Morticia added. "The screaming, the blood, the tears and years of therapy, and that was just the receptionist. She was such a little hell-raiser at that age."  
"Wait a minute, just how old are we talking here?" asked Tali.  
"Oh, she would have been around six at the time her biotics had manifested enough to warrant an implant," Gomez explained. "She was lucky in that they had just brought out the L3 line, so she was one of the first to receive that generation of implants. Sadly, no one predicted that the anaesthetic would have an... adverse reaction when she woke up. She was understandably upset."  
"That's putting it mildly," Fester said, almost spilling his drink with his outburst. "I had to develop an entirely new anaesthetic for biotics after her outburst. Made a fortune! Still, she did lose control a bit. I thought that beating the doctor to death with his own spine was a bit over the top. Inventive certainly, and when it came out about what said doctor had been doing with some of his other underage patients certainly justifiable, but a little over the top." The three alien additions to the Addams clan looked down at their drinks as they tried to picture a six year old Wednesday beating a man to death with his own spine. They all took a long drink once they had, in a vain attempt to rid their minds of the image.

"Hey, what about the time she and Pubert came out to visit me and my unit?" Pugsley asked. "Now that was a fun time."  
"Knowing your very odd definition of fun Pugsley, I can only assume explosions were involved," Garrus replied.  
"Well duh! This is Wednesday we're talking about. Anyway, I was still messing around with some grenades when Wednesday and Pubert bet me they could make a bigger explosion than I could with their biotics. Now admittedly at the time, I hadn't seen either of them in actual combat using biotics, so I didn't know what they were capable of. Suffice to say, both of them won that bet, so I had to spend the next week wearing a uniform they had dyed a horrible bubblegum pink. But it did give me a few ideas, and I'm almost ready to release the prototype of my biotic grenades. It'll be a real game-changer."

"Hey, remember the time that Cerberus group tried to kidnap me?" asked Pubert.  
"Wait, I remember hearing about them. Didn't the Alliance kill a lot of them recently?" asked Tali.  
"Yes they did, but I don't think they are gone yet," replied Morticia. "And Pubert, I don't think anyone on Elysium will forget that week anytime soon." She turned to the aliens to give them the story.

"Just after Pubert was born, he began manifesting his biotics. We took him to the doctor on Eden Prime, where I had given birth to him unexpectedly a week early. One of the doctors told me he had died suddenly, though it wasn't very convincing. So I kept tabs on the clinic and followed as Pubert was sent to a remote facility. I learned that it was some sort of research facility looking at unlocking biotic potential in humans. Pubert and another girl were the main subjects, anything that worked was done to them. Most of the rest of the children there died. I was about to alert Gomez to the situation when there was some sort of incident. Most of the guards and children were killed, while Pubert and the girl managed to escape independently of each other. We grabbed Pubert, and after taking a few months to convince him of who he was, he turned out just fine for an Addams. We never did find the girl, she would have found a home with us I'm sure."

"Anyway, years later some Cerberus agents had obviously tagged him on Elysium. Wednesday was there on shore leave, and between the two of them it was the most creative use of biotics I've ever seen. Forensic scientists were still finding bits of them weeks later. But there was a lot of confusion I suppose, with the Skyllian Blitz and all that. Just lucky it ended the way it did I suppose." There was a long silence, before Garrus spoke up, raising his glass in a toast.

"To Wednesday, the most badass human I've ever had the pleasure of knowing."  
"Hey, what about me?" Pugsley protested.  
"I said badass, not just ass," Garrus teased, before taking a drink. Everyone took a sip and chuckled, and the rest of the night was spent drinking, reminiscing and remembering the life that Wednesday had led. In the morning they would return to the problem of preparing the galaxy for the Reapers, but tonight was all for Wednesday, may she rest in peace, or at least acceptable violence.

* * *

**A/N: So Hey Everybody! Welcome back to the saga of Wednesday Shepard (nee Addams)!**

**This story is obviously called Interlude, and will follow some of the major plot points and characters that occur to the Normandy crew in the time between Wednesday being killed at the end of Classified Memories and her rude awakening in the continuation of the Wednesday saga in Prized Collection. **

**Please read, review and enjoy this work looking at some of the little moments that were overlooked while Wednesday was dead for tax purposes.**


	2. Speak of the Dead

In the orbit of a dying star, a station sat in silence. Inside the depths was a private office, mirrored floors and ceilings and transparent walls gave a spectacular view of the star, sometimes red, sometimes blue in its ancient death throes. Inside the office a man sat in the only chair, a cool glass of scotch nested in a purpose-made alcove on the left armrest, a cigarette held in place on the ashtray set into the right. A dozen virtual screens projected data at him and his female companion, who was currently staring out at the star with a frown.

She turned back to the seated man, taking in his immaculate suit and eerie artificial blue eyes as they swept over the various screens.  
"Shepard did everything right," she said, her voice tinged with her Australian accent. She put a hand on her hip, the only sign that the woman was frustrated. "More than we could've hoped for. Saving the Citadel—even saving the Council. Humanity has the trust of the entire galaxy... and still it's not enough."  
"We both know it will never be enough Miranda," the seated man replied. "The Reapers are still out there, regardless of Sovereign's defeat. We've earned the Council's gratitude as a species, but Shepard remains our best hope."

"That's all well and good, aside from the fact that she's dead!" Miranda replied sarcastically.  
"In this day and age Miranda, death isn't as final as you might be led to believe," he replied, causing her to raise a curious brow. "Look at this," he said, pointing to one of the virtual screens, containing a grainy picture taken from some damaged security footage. It showed Commander Wednesday Shepard leading her crew in one firefight or another.  
"What exactly am I looking at?" she asked, irritation building.  
"The tall human in the gothic armour. This is the best shot we have of him from the salvaged Peak 15 data on Noveria."  
"What about him?"  
"There is no official file on him, though some of our reports indicate that Shepard referred to him as 'Lurch'. He doesn't appear anywhere in the galaxy, on paper or database, until this footage. Best we can figure, the good Commander paid a visit to Fester Addams on Noveria before dealing with the rachni threat at Peak 15. I think it's safe to assume she picked up this Lurch from Addams."

"So he was a bodyguard or private contractor for Addams before that, mystery solved. It's fairly easy to erase a person's past, if you know how," Miranda said, staring not at Lurch, but at Wednesday on the screen. Even this seemed to have captured a bit of the Commander, of her sheer force of personality.  
"But even then, there are always holes or traces. Miranda, we are talking about a total absence of Lurch being alive before joining Shepard."  
"Go on, you've obviously got a theory."  
"Indeed I do Miranda. I've been going over the shipping manifests and expenditure for Addams' Peak 13 facilty for the year up to Shepard's visit. There is no indication that he has ever had anyone else there, not even a research assistant or cleaner. But curiously, he's been receiving a lot of shipments of corpses and body parts donated for science, or condemned criminals."  
"You can't possibly think -"  
"Oh but I do Miranda. I believe that Fester Addams has worked out how to reanimate the dead."

"Then how do we get him working for us?" Miranda asked. She noted the sour turn of his mouth once the question had been aired.  
"Don't think I haven't tried. He's been stubbornly... resistant to my overtures. He's one of humanity's best and brightest however, so my annoyance at his refusal is tempered by his usefulness. Besides, he's far too rich for me to do anything against him, and his research facility is surprisingly well-fortified, both from physical and digital infiltration." Miranda calculated just how long to pause.  
"So, how many agents?" she asked with a smirk. His further grimace proved her suspicions were right.  
"Seven," he growled in response, "five infiltration agents and two slicers. The slicers' computers were broken by the digital feedback and they woke up to find a severed hand in their bed. The infiltrators... were returned to their last used safe houses, mostly in pieces. Suffice to say, word has gotten around and none of our remaining agents are willing to try."

"So what are we left with? Shepard's coffin is a bust, everyone knows it's empty," Miranda said, pointing to screen where a news story was depicting the memorial on the Citadel.  
"While it's true Shepard's body was never recovered by the Alliance, there are other interested parties. Some of our agents on Omega have recently picked up a lot of chatter from the Blue Suns about contact with the Shadow Broker and Shepard. From their reports, it seems as if the Shadow Broker knows where to start digging."  
"Why though, what could he gain?"  
"Shepard is a hero to the galaxy Miranda, and a scourge to the batarians and pirates generally. I'm sure there are those who would be willing to pay any price for her body, for whatever reason. This just means we have to get it first if we're to have any chance of bringing her back and joining our cause."

Miranda paused for a second, unsure of how to proceed. The Illusive Man had floated the idea of recruiting Shepard to Cerberus just after her appointment to the Spectre program, but Miranda's instincts lead her to believe that it would not work.  
"Sir, I still have doubts about that, especially if our last report was true."  
"You mean her romantic interest in Dr T'Soni?"  
"Yes, that. With such an… interest in non-humans, it does seem less likely that she'd be a good fit for our organisation, even if we did bring her back."  
"Shepard has done more for advancing humanity in the last five years than we have on our own in the last fifty. Elysium, Torfan, the Citadel. I think you underestimate her, and her dedication to human advancement. Besides, I think we can persuade her in other ways."

"We still have to bring her back first," Miranda retorted, rolling her eyes. While the Illusive Man was once of the human race's most intelligent individuals, he was still human. And apparently still quite prone to overconfidence.  
"Yes, and interesting that you should mention Dr T'Soni. She's the only one from Shepard's crew, aside from the pilot and marines, who we've been able to find. And given her romantic attachment, perhaps she would be amenable to assisting us in reclaiming Shepard's remains."  
"You may have something there, I can work with that. What else do we have?"  
"I have an agent on Omega who may be able to assist, I'll get in contact with him. Is there anything you might require once we are successful?"

"I think 'if' we are successful is more accurate. We'll need a facility, away from prying eyes. I'll need doctors, researchers, a security contingent. Our newest recruit, Jacob, would be good for that."  
"Yes, he's a little too vocal about his disdain for some of the necessary things we have done, and he seems particularly connected to you. So keeping him attached to something… less questionable, and away from the general ranks to sow discontent, is a win-win. As for the rest, you'll have it ready and waiting for you by the time you're ready to begin. I'm going to dub this Project Lazarus, and putting you in charge. Your first step, obviously, is to get back Shepard's body."  
"Yes Sir," Miranda replied, bowing her head and leaving as he picked up his scotch and took a sip, eyes once again sweeping over his screens.


	3. Welcome to the Family

Garrus and Tali felt a little odd, and that was saying something. For the last ten weeks the two of them had been intensely studying with the Addams family. It had always been Wednesday's intention to induct them into the Duty to maintain galactic Balance, but sadly the woman herself would not be there tonight to see the culmination of her work. Weeks of weapons combat with Gomez, forensics with Pugsley, underworld intrigue with Morticia and advanced poisons and biological warfare with Granny had finally come to an end, and the two of them would be the first new additions to the Addams family since Pubert was born.

What made it slightly odd was that both the turian and the quarian were provided with black formalwear, both of them certain that they hadn't been measured for it, yet finding the outfits were perfectly fitted. As the two of them entered the ballroom they were greeted by the sight of Gomez, Fester, Pugsley and Pubert standing, with Morticia, Granny and Benezia seated nearby. All of the standing men were wielding a set of throwing knives. And there was a strange sensation, like there were other people watching from the shadows. No, people wasn't the right word, it was more like spirits. Both Garrus and Tali could feel the presence of the many Addams past watching them in this moment.

"Garrus, Tali, Wednesday would be very proud to see you here tonight," Gomez said. "She had a real eye for talent and I'm pleased that you were able to learn from us all so quickly. I'm sure that when you return it will all seem surreal, but tonight!" He took a deep breath, savouring it. "Tonight, you become Addams! And there is only one way to properly celebrate this: Mamushka!" His beaming smile was replicated on the faces of his brother and sons. Silently, Morticia fetched out her violin, made of a wood so old and oiled it appeared almost black, and began to play a slow rhythmic dance, while Granny accompanied with a tamborine. "We danced the Mamushka when London burned. We danced the Mamushka in Timbuktu. We danced the Mamushka for the Rostov Ripper. And now Garrus and Tali, this Mamushka is for _you_!"

Gomez and Pugsley each handed Garrus the hilt of a throwing knife, while Fester and Pubert did the same for Tali. The six of them went out onto the dance floor in groups of three, taking position as Morticia changed the beat. The two new Addams felt odd, a small and receding part of their minds telling them this wasn't safe, while a large and growing part drowned it out as they began to feel the music not just with their ears but with their very souls. Something in the mournful sound of the violin howled into the night, and something within them howled back in reply.

The two of them felt more than knew how the next part went, how to place their left foot just _so_ in time with their two partners, their right hands extending to touch knives in a tenting formation. Then swapping legs and arms before taking a step back, juggling the knives like the experts they now were. Then juggling them within their little group, the throws becoming less juggling and more threatening as the tempo began to race. Each dancer abruptly grabbed two knives and rubbed the blades hard and fast enough to cause sparks as they stared murderously at the nearest Addams, before quickly ducking into Cossack steps as they formed up in lines and began throwing the knives across the room, the air thick with flashing silver. The dancers moved slightly to form a circle, still throwing the knives with deadly abandon but none of them missing a single beat, catching each flying blade and flinging it out again with impeccable style. The music worked up to a feverish pace and they all felt the right moment to grab their knives and hold them, looking directly at their opposite in the small circle with manic grins as the knives clanged against their neighbours' and they all joined in the only spoken part of the Addams family dance.

"We dance the dance of brotherly love! Mamushka!"

* * *

A week later, Tali and Garrus stood watching the various ships leaving the Citadel. There was still a lot of rebuilding going on, but the best way to keep the galactic economy moving forward was to keep the shipping lanes to the Citadel open.  
"What will you do now?" asked Garrus, the turian leaning against a railing.  
"Back to the Flotilla now," Tali replied. "This geth data Wednesday let me have will be the perfect Pilgrimage gift."  
"Any thoughts on a particular ship?"  
"I can't go back to the Rayya. My father serves on the Gallea, one of the ships we purchased from the asari when they decommissioned it, so it can't be that one either."  
"Don't get along with your father?"  
"Let's just say we don't see eye to eye on a lot of things. Now more than ever," Tali said, a hint of sadness creeping into her voice. Garrus put a hand around her slim shoulder.

"I miss her too Tali. And don't worry, there are fifty thousand ships in the Migrant Fleet, I'm sure you'll narrow it down by the time you get there. How are you getting there anyway, you never did say?"  
"Morticia gave me enough money to buy a small corvette. Called it a gift for completing my Pilgrimage and becoming an Addams."  
"Wow, not bad."  
"She also said it was something Wednesday had mentioned to her. Crazy bitch, even after death, she's still messing with my life."  
"Can't argue with that. She did meddle with a lot of things, but that was just her nature. She often left them a lot better once she'd finished. So, once you've picked a ship, what then?"  
"I don't know. I'm sure the Admiralty Board will have a lot of questions about the geth data, maybe I could try and work with Admiral Zoris. He's spent his life trying to convince the board to reach out to the geth, maybe the time has come. Or I don't know, maybe I'll join R&D and try and design some new omni-tool mods I've been thinking about."  
"I can see it now: the new cutting edge from Zorah Industries – a cutting edge! In your choice of burning or freezing, poison or electric, the Zorah Industries omni-blade is everything you need to keep your friends close and your enemies dead!"

The two of them shared a laugh, ignoring the one or two curious glances shot their way.  
"What about you, mister hotshot former detective? What are you going to do now?"  
"Honestly, I've been thinking a lot about some of the talks I had with her, and something just seemed to click. She and her entire family have been bending, breaking or outright ignoring the rules for nigh on a thousand years. Being a Spectre just made it official. Maybe that's what I need to be as well, a Spectre, so I can more effectively do the things that need to be done."  
"Really, you can do that?" Tali asked incredulously.  
"Sort of. I'll be starting back at C-Sec next week, and I'll apply for the pre-Spectre training program. I might not get anywhere, but it's as good a first step as any."  
"Well I for one think you'd make an excellent Spectre, Garrus," Tali replied, shoving him playfully. The two of them looked as a small corvette, black of course, was piloted into the berth they had been waiting at.

"That's my new ride. I'm going to miss you Garrus. Promise you'll keep in touch."  
"I will. So, what's she called?" Garrus asked teasingly.  
"What are you talking about?"  
"Your new ship, Tali! Don't tell me you haven't given it a name, that's huge bad luck!"  
The two of them picked up Tali's gear and walked over to the gangway, where the asari pilot was just getting out of the airlock. She turned to the two of them, before focusing on Tali.  
"Miss Zorah, I presume?"  
"That's me," Tali replied.  
"Then may I say it has been a pleasure doing business with you. Please enjoy your purchase." She handed over a disc with all the instructions and command codes to Tali, before smiling a little too warmly at Garrus to be strictly professional and heading away to the nearest transit terminal.

"So, you didn't answer my question Tali," Garrus said as he placed her bag in the airlock. "What did you call her?"  
"Fine, if you must know, I called her _Wednesday's Child_."  
"Where did that come from?"  
"Morticia told me a story about how she named Wednesday. It's from an old Earth rhyme. The line goes _Wednesday's child is full of woe_. And this ship did essentially come from her, so it's her child as much as mine. And from now on, if anyone messes with me, they'll find out just how full of woe they can get." She hissed the last sentence and Garrus nodded in appreciation. He'd seen just how quickly and aggressively Tali had taken to Gomez's weapons training. She was a little lion under that suit.  
"Fitting," he quipped, before stepping out of the airlock. He watched in silence as the airlock closed and _Wednesday's Child_ slid from the dock and out into the galaxy, leaving him all alone to face the future.

No, not alone. He still had Wednesday's example to look up to. He'd once told her that people can create a spirit with their actions, and she had most definitely left one with him by making him an Addams. So no, he wouldn't be entirely alone as he walked towards the waiting future, bright with promise.


	4. Taking What's Hers

Liara took one last look at the stasis pod hovering next to her as she waited for the exchange to happen. She risked opening the physical container, not breaking the field itself inside, at the remains of Wednesday Shepard. She let herself go as memories of not so long ago drifted across her mind. Their first real kiss on Mindoir. Thinking she was a hallucination on Therum. Talking to her mother through the communicator on Wednesday's wrist. That last thought brought her back to focus on the sight before her. She reached through the stasis field and took a small disc out from the remains of Wednesday's omni-tool, steadfastly refusing to look at Wednesday's uncovered face. She saw the thin metal chain holding her dog tags, and remembered Wednesday telling her that they went to soldier's families when they died. She took them off almost reverentially, still fighting the urge to see Wednesday's face one last time. The sound of the door opening forced her to pocket the metal devices quickly, before resealing the container and turning to face the person she was here to do business with.

* * *

**ONE WEEK EARLIER**

Liara was en route to Thessia to tie up loose ends with the University of Serrice when a call was forwarded to her cabin. She enquired to the communications officer about the caller, but the asari officer replied that it was private, origin unknown. Liara thought for a moment, then accepted the incoming channel request. Once connected, a miniature hologram appeared of a woman wearing a bodysuit that accentuated all her curves, topped with long black hair flowing down her shoulders and a face that human men would fawn over.

"Dr T'Soni, thank you for taking my call. My name is Miranda Lawson and I need your help."  
"What exactly do you need my help for, Miss Lawson?"  
"I've recently come across information that Commander Shepard's body has been recovered." If the holographic representation of Miranda was hoping this would get some sort of reaction out of Liara, she was too late. A month ago she might have managed it, when the pain of losing Wednesday was still fresh. Now though, with Morticia's lessons behind her and a mind fully corrupted by Addams thinking, she did little more than raise a curious eyebrow.

"Then why call me and not the Alliance? Indeed, why isn't the Alliance already moving?"  
"Because I only just received the information. Her remains were found on Alchera, and the Blue Suns are taking them to Omega to sell them."  
"I've yet to see where you need my help with this, Miss Lawson," Liara replied, irritation starting to show on her face.  
"Because I, and the organisation I work for, have a bad reputation on Omega. You are an unknown, and you have a personal attachment to the Commander. Tell me that doesn't motivate you even the slightest." Much as Liara would like to argue, Miranda was right about one thing. News about Wednesday did motivate her, even if was only about her remains. She deserved to be buried alongside her ancestors.

"Fine, you have my attention Miss Lawson, but please indulge my curiosity. Why, even if I do get Shepard's body, do you care?"  
"Because Shepard is an icon, a symbol of humanity. And if we're to have any hope against the Reapers, we need her."  
"A dead woman is hardly an ideal figurehead," Liara replied flippantly.  
"What if I told you we could bring her back?"

Liara was about to laugh at the ridiculousness of Miranda's statement, but then stopped herself. It wasn't totally impossible, Lurch had been a prime example. But even if that could be done, would the result be Wednesday as she had known her? And did she want it to be, to give her hope? It was a tough question for the maiden, one she couldn't answer right now.

"Assuming I believe your somewhat laughable claim, what are you asking of me?" Liara asked.  
"I know you're currently on route to Thessia. If you can get to Omega within 24 hours, you'll have a chance at bringing back Shepard," Miranda replied. Liara bit her lip, considering her options. She could refuse and allow Wednesday's remains to be sold like common salvage. She could retrieve the remains so they could be buried in Wednesday's empty grave. Or she could give them to the mysterious Miranda, and put faith in her claim of bringing Wednesday back to life.

She knew the first wasn't an option. What kind of person would she be if she didn't give her girlfriend's body the respect it deserved?  
"Fine, I'll head to Omega. I assume you have a plan for when I get there?"  
"You'll be contacted by one of our agents on Omega shortly after you arrive. Thank you Doctor."  
"Don't thank me yet, Miss Lawson," Liara replied, and there was enough of Wednesday's shade in her voice to make Miranda feel the need to swallow nervously.

* * *

After a disagreement about her fare, which lead her to rather violently remind her turian and batarian fellows why asari weren't to be messed with, Liara had docked on Omega. Miranda's agent contacted her not long after she had disembarked, telling her to meet him outside Afterlife when she arrived. She asked how he would know when to be there and he cryptically replied that he had ways of knowing – typical showy intelligence prick.

So as Liara wandered through the crowded, dirty and sleazy thoroughfares to Afterlife, she kept an eye out for her contact. She made it all the way to the queue when she felt a hand on her arm. She turned, biotics flaring to paste the offender like she had the unfortunate turians on the transport, before the hand was removed and she looked under the hood he was wearing to the reptilian drell features underneath.  
"Let's take a walk," he suggested, stalking away from the entrance and the crowds. Liara followed him a second later.

"Feron, I assume?"  
"Yes, come quickly. The Blue Suns have Shepard's body in a dock on the lower levels, they are waiting for whoever they are here to sell it to."  
"Who would possibly want to buy her body?"  
"I don't know, and that's the scary part."

He lead her through narrow alleyways until they could look down at the docking bay where a Blue Suns corvette and a small squad surrounded a stasis pod, obviously waiting for someone to arrive. They didn't have to wait long, as soon a second, similarly sized ship arrived. After it landed and the cargo hatch opened, Feron let out a gasp at the person revealed. As the various gasses cleared, a salarian silhouette that was roughly the size of a turian stepped forward. Feron ducked down as the hulking salarian walked over to the waiting Blue Suns, hiding from sight even though none of them had even looked their way since they had taken up this position.

"Crap, this is bad," Feron muttered, his eyes darting around as he thought.  
"Why, who is that?" Liara whispered.  
"That is Tazzik. And that means this just got a lot more complicated."  
"Who is Tazzik?"  
"Tazzik is an enforcer for the Shadow Broker. Looks like we've found who wants Shepard's body so badly." Liara's body lit up as her biotics flared and her eyes narrowed.  
"They will not get away with this," she hissed, readying herself to charge down and kill anyone who tried to stop her. Before she could, a grip of iron latched on to her arm, and she followed it to look at Feron holding her. "Remove your hand before I remove your arm," she hissed at him.

"Wait Liara, think about this for a minute. There are a dozen of them, including a krogan and Tazzik. There's only two of us, if you include me, which I usually don't. We have to think, not just act."  
"Then what do you suggest?" Liara snarled quietly, watching as the stasis pod was moved from the Blue Suns and given to Tazzik, who was scanning it.  
"I have an idea," said Feron, looking towards one of the old station defence turrets nearby. He walked over to it and inspected it, finding the power still on and the gun itself functional. "Alright, be ready to move. We'll probably only get one shot," he said, fingers flying over the controls.

Liara was already moving when the whine of the mass accelerator sliced through the air, followed shortly after by a massive explosion. Liara watched with eyes wide as the Blue Suns' ship, along with most of the mercenaries, was engulfed in the explosion.

The remaining mercenaries picked themselves up, Tazzik already reaching for the grenade launcher on his back, eyes searching. It didn't take them long to figure out Feron's position and start returning fire. Liara used their second of distraction to close in and kill the first mercenary with a single biotic punch. Unfortunately, this gave away her element of surprise.

As the mercs shifted their fire to her, Tazzik turned to the hovering stasis pod, manoeuvring it into his ship. Liara tried to fight her way towards it, but the mercs kept her pinned. She watched helplessly as Wednesday was taken away from her after being so close, before she turned back to the mercs, eyes aflame with purple energy.

Once she finished tearing apart the mercenaries with an Addams-worthy level of sheer malice, Feron crept back into her field of vision. She turned on him with vicious intent in her eyes.  
"You!" is all she managed to say, abandoning words for the far more visceral response of taking his neck in her hands and throttling him.  
"Wait... Tracking device... Tazzik's ship... follow him!" he manages to rasp, desperately trying to pry loose Liara's biotic grip on his throat. Liara relaxed her grip enough for him to speak freely.  
"Start talking Feron, and you better hope it's something I want to hear!" she whispered sweetly and terrifyingly..  
"Look, Tazzik is an agent of the Shadow Broker, so that's who really wants Shepard. I've been paid by Cerberus to track the body, find out who wants it and why. I only learned about you yesterday."  
"She was right there! You could have helped, could have stopped him taking her!" she replied, starting to squeeze again.  
"Wait! Tazzik's just a meathead, he does what he's told. He'll take the body somewhere else! I put a tracking beacon on his ship so we can follow him, but we have to hurry!" Liara squeezed a little more, before removing her hands and shoving him backwards, making a sound of disgust.

"Fine, but we better find Shepard," she said, seething. "Wait, what's this about Cerberus? I was contacted by Miranda Lawson about this."  
"Exactly, she's with Cerberus. They made me a better offer to help them get back Shepard's body."  
"A better offer than who?" she asked, a dangerous edge to her voice.  
"The Shadow Broker," he replied meekly, ready for a renewed attack. When it didn't come, he was shocked to see Liara looking thoughtful rather than murderous.  
"Interesting double-agent lines there Feron. So, you are going to take me to your ship, and we are going to go and get Shepard," She turned around, the scenes of carnage at odds with her serene composition. She threw him a look over her shoulder, almost like an afterthought.

"Oh, and if you betray me, I'm going to make what's left of your life a living hell!" As Feron looked into her eyes, he knew that she wasn't making a joke.

* * *

Setting down his ship, Feron turned to the asari who'd been meditating on the floor of his small and cramped ship for the entire ride.  
"We're here," he said simply. Liara opened her eyes and stood, stretching.  
"What is your plan?"  
"I'm known at this base, I can get us in. Once we're inside, we find Shepard, find a ship, and get the hell out of there before we find more trouble than we can handle," he said quickly. Liara just tilted her head to the side, all the more menacing for her hard stare.  
"I can handle quite a bit of trouble," she said with a predatory smirk.  
"I'll bet," Feron said under his breath, before leading them out.

He walked up to the turian guards at the door, giving them his best charming smile as he explained that Liara was a new agent recruit, and he was here to bring her to the Broker to assess her. Though slightly sceptical, this had obviously happened before since they let them in without much fuss, just a lecherous leer from one of the guards at Liara's chest. Once inside, Feron led the two of them quickly through the halls towards a communications hub.

As they got close, a pair of voices and accompanying footsteps announced others in the corridor ahead. They pushed themselves into an alcove, listening as the pair passed them by. Liara was going to ignore them completely when the volus mentioned the word 'Shepard'. Then her focus was entirely on the conversation, risking jutting her head around the corner to see the speakers. The corridor held only two of them; a squat, rotund volus whose legs were working quickly to keep up with the tall, insectoid biped he was guiding. Liara's subsconcious screamed a single word at her: _Collector_!

"...have you verified the remains?" the carapaced alien asked.  
"-_hiss_- we had performed all the necessary tests. -_hiss_- It's her, without a doubt." Liara was about to launch herself at them, biotics at the ready, when Feron once again stopped her.  
"There are a hundred heavily-armed guards in this facility. We don't want to risk a fight until we've secured Shepard. In here," he said, dragging her behind him into a room. He immediately went towards one of the interfaces, saying this was the information hub of the base, and they could use it to find Shepard. As he started, a hologram turned on, the sheer amount of light obscuring the subject.

"Dr T'Soni, you are becoming an annoyance." Liara flared her biotics and strode towards the hologram, which was now starting to appear vaguely humanoid.  
"And you are a horrible person, selling bodies like some kind of ghoul."  
"You made this personal T'Soni. To me, this is nothing more than a business deal, one you have tried to derail once already. I will not allow you to do so again."  
"What do you even want with her body? What do the Collectors want?"  
"What the Collectors want it for, I don't care. They have been interested in odd specimens for centuries, maybe Shepard is just another one of them. As for me, all I care is that they are offering one of the largest payments of advanced technology in centuries, and I intend to cash in."  
"I will find you," Liara began, getting closer to the hologram to threaten it, only to find that it was some featureless avatar she was threatening, not the Shadow Broker himself.

"I've got it Liara," Feron said, overloading the console with his omni-tool. "That should slow them down without surveillance and communications to the Broker. Now, let's move," he said, leading her back down the featureless grey corridors. They quickly came upon the Collector again, this time in one of the cargo bays. Its skin and carapace were cracked now, and yellow fire seemed to push through the cracks. It was looking down at the stasis pod that Tazzik had brought from Omega, the one containing Shepard's body. The door closed behind them and Liara flared her biotics again, ready to jump into the fight. But Feron put a restraining hand on her shoulder, before walking over jauntily and clapping Tazzik on the shoulder like an old friend.

"Tazzik, hey, good to see you. And you," he gestured at the glowing Collector, "Uh, nice to meet. Anyway, boss has an update for this exchange. Says to tell you the price has doubled, since we've brought another one of the _Normandy_ crew," he said, pointing to Liara. She and Tazzik both looked at him with murder in their eyes, momentarily too stunned to move.  
"You pretend to be everywhere at once – I already am," the Collecter droned, before Liara attacked. She and the Collector traded blows, both martial and biotic, until Liara cracked open the Collector's armoured head, sending it lifeless to the floor. Meanwhile, Tazzik had already knocked down Feron and was moving the stasis pod back to his ship, intending to leave until this mess was sorted out.

Liara attacked him with such ferocity that even the massive salarian was surprised, stepping back just as the stasis pod cleared into the cargo bay of his ship. He grabbed her arms, intending to throw her back when Feron jumped at him from behind, knocking both of them down and sending Liara sprawling. She got up, finding herself in the cargo bay of Tazzik's ship, his omni-tool held in her fist. She realised she must have taken it when he grabbed her, and looked up to see Feron and Tazzik wrestling on the floor, Tazzik easily gaining the advantage due to his size. Deciding that his numerous attempts to deceive her merited some kind of a reprisal, Liara just walked over to the cargo door controls, taking one last look at Feron's unbelieving face before it was gone. She walked up to the flight controls, using the authentication from Tazzik's omni-tool to start the ship and fly it far away from the planet.

As she flew, she thought back on her most recent adventure and began to see a pattern. Feron couldn't have intentionally missed Tazzik's ship on Omega, not from that distance. He had stopped her numerous times from attacking her enemies, even when it would have been to their advantage. She began to see that he hadn't been working with her, he had been working against her this whole time. By now he would probably be the Shadow Broker's prisoner, if Tazzik hadn't already killed him. The question then was, who had he been working for?

Which brought up the question of the Shadow Broker himself. In the past, he had always kept himself aggressively neutral, willing to give any information to anyone for the right price. But working with the Collectors was a new low, along with grave-robbing and the rest of the crimes he had committed. Her newfound sense of Addams justice craved to bring it to him at the edge of a sword, but you couldn't fight smoke and mirrors. She needed time, resources and plans if she was to give him the retribution he so richly deserved, things she didn't have right now.

Then there was the question of what to do with Wednesday herself. The woman's body was down in the cargo hold right now, still held in perfect stasis. She contemplated the offer floated to her by Miranda, what seemed like ages ago. They would try to revive her, bring her back to be the leader the galaxy needed to fight the Reapers. She thought hard about it, feeling the crime against nature it would be to even try. But then she remembered Lurch, and the last words she had ever heard Wednesday speak.

_Sic gorgiamus allos subiectatos nunc. _

_"__We gladly feast on those who would subdue us. How right you are, Wednesday. Death took you too soon from this place, and he will not subdue you. Not if I have anything to say about it." She turned to the communication terminal, typing in the details she had been given by Miranda. Moments later, the woman's face appeared on the viewscreen.  
"Dr T'Soni, a pleasure," said Miranda, her face sporting a small smile.  
"I'm sure. I have Wednesday's body, and I left your double agent to the Shadow Broker's tender mercies."  
"Well, that is certainly unexpected."  
"Yes, and now I'm in the position of completely ignoring your offer."  
"I would urge you to reconsider, Doctor. My employer isn't tolerant of people not accepting his offers."  
"You mean the Illusive Man and Cerberus?" Miranda winced a little, she had hoped it wouldn't come to that.  
"Yes, exactly."  
"Well then, it's probably good for everyone that I'm agreeing to hand over her body. On one condition," Liara said, her tone serious.  
"I'm listening," Miranda replied eagerly. _

_"__I'm going to want a favour from you someday, Miss Lawson. And I want your word, in writing, that no matter how big or small, urgent or not, you will hold yourself to that."  
"Not that I have a lot of choice in the matter, but I accept your terms. Meet me at the following coordinates as soon as possible so we can take custody of the body." There was a beep as the additional data was received.  
"I'll be there Miss Lawson. Liara out."_

* * *

**PRESENT**

Miranda came in just as Liara closed the container, understanding why the asari did it, but still annoyed she would risk possible contamination.  
"Dr T'Soni," she greeted, extending a hand before thinking the asari might not know this particular human custom.  
"Miss Lawson," Liara replied, taking the offered hand firmly, her eyes flicking over Miranda's bodysuit.  
"I don't need to ask you what's in there," Miranda said, flicking her eyes at the stasis pod. "But I wouldn't hold it against you if you didn't want to go through with this." _But I have my orders to eliminate her and take the body if she resists,_ she thought privately. _Given what she's been up against recently, I'm not sure I'd succeed._

"We had a bargain, Miss Lawson. You would be given Wednesday so you can bring her back, in return, you owe me a favour to be called in the future."  
"Very well then. If I may ask, what are your plans now?"  
"None of your concern Miss Lawson, nor that of Cerberus," Liara replied tersely. "Good day. Expect to hear from me in the future." She turned and left, leaving the human with the stasis pod and a concerned look on her face. Liara didn't care though, she had a new goal to work towards.

The Shadow Broker thought that just because of who he was, he was immune from Addams justice. He had taken Feron, a toy that she had earned the right to torture, not him. So now she would find the Shadow Broker, kill him if necessary, and reclaim Feron so she could torture him herself for his betrayal of her and Wednesday. To do this though, she needed help. She knew just who to call, the cool, comforting weight of Wednesday's QEC hidden in her pocket. She waited until she was on her new ship, now repainted and rebranded so no lingering trace of Tazzik's presence remained, before pressing the button she knew would connect her to the woman she wanted to talk to.

"Morticia, do you have time to talk? I need a little assistance, and I feel you would be best placed to give it to me."  
"Liara my dear, I would be delighted. So, what can I do for you?"  
"I was hoping you could help me set up an information brokering business."  
"I think I can help you there Liara. So tell me..."


	5. Ripples Spreading

As the _Wednesday's Child_ sailed through space towards the heart of the Migrant Fleet, Tali had finally narrowed down her choice. She couldn't return to the _Rayya_, nor serve on the _Gallea_, but what she had told Wednesday was right. She was an Admiral's daughter, and big things were expected of her. So what better way than to start by claiming the end of her Pilgrimage, the right to her adult name, on one of the most important ships in the Fleet.

As she approached the _Neema_, she opened a channel to the docking controllers.  
"This is Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. I have completed my pilgrimage and have come to claim my right and name as vas _Neema_."  
"Your ship will be a fine gift to Captain Kar'Danna, Tali'Zorah," the controller replied, before sending her the docking clearance and vectors. Tali was silent for a moment as she input the data into the ship's computer before she spoke again.  
"This ship is not my gift; it was a gift from a friend. I will be presenting something else to the Captain."  
"Oh, my mistake," said the controller. "We have received you Tali'Zorah. The Captain will meet you at the airlock. Keelah sel'ai."

The docking process was simple, and Tali had a moment of doubt as she held the OSD containing the geth data from the Armstrong Cluster raid. But it vanished as her newfound Addams confidence shone forth, stepping through proudly as the doors separating the _Child_ from the _Neema_ peeled back. Waiting for her at the other end was Captain Kar'Danna, one of the most influential and well-known quarians in the Fleet. As captain of the _Neema_, one of only three liveships the quarians had, his word carried considerable weight. Tali bowed her head in respect, but not as low as she might have before meeting Wednesday.  
"Captain Kar'Danna, I have completed my Pilgrimage. I have journeyed the stars and found a gift that will strengthen our people, and found strength in myself." The captain nodded in deference to the ceremony, and looked out the small port-hole at the view of _Wednesday's Child_.  
"A new ship is always welcome here. It might even serve for some missions that Marines take on from time to time."  
"Forgive me Captain, but _Wednesday's Child_ is not my gift to you. This is," she said calmly, holding out the OSD. The Captain looked down at the disc Tali proffered and his body language gave away his curiosity.

"And what exactly is this?" he asked, scepticism heavy in his tone.  
"It's data sir. Geth data. It's a log of nearly fifty years worth of geth neural process activity. It might be used to figure out how they have changed since we were exiled."  
"And where did you find such a thing?" he asked in reply, his tone less condescending.  
"While on my Pilgrimage I served with Wednesday Shepard. I was part of a team that found an isolated geth... team I suppose. When we defeated them, we salvaged this data from one of their servers." At the mention of Shepard, the Captain's head perked up from the disc in Tali's hand.  
"Shepard, you say? Then maybe there is more here than meets the eye. In any case, new data on the geth is certainly a novel and unusual Pilgrimage gift. But then, what else should I expect from Rael's daughter? Very well Tali'Zorah, I accept your gift and accept you into my crew. Let it be known that from this day, you shall be Tali'Zorah vas Neema. Now come, let us discuss your future."

* * *

The two krogan in the fighting pit were weary, bloodied and panting, but both unbowed. Then the scarred one with red on his plate and red in his eyes charged forward, knocking his opponent into the sturdy Tuchanka stonework. The scarred one followed with a series of slow but brutal and powerful punches to the face and torso, aiming for the weak spots in their natural plate. After a seventh punishing fist was delivered to the other's ribcage, the victim fell to one knee, coughing and spitting up blood.  
"Do you yield, Wreav?" the puncher asked, standing above the kneeler, cool anger in his eyes. Wrex looked down at this opponent, seeing the wounded pride and rage in the other's eye and knowing what the answer would be.  
"No," Wreav replied, surging to his feet. His fist was met on the upswing by Wrex's hand deflecting it. Wrex's head then surged downwards into Wreav's, a grinding sound of plate on plate echoing around the chamber. Wrex followed the headbutt with a punch and a boot to the face, leaving his opponent prone on the ground, one eye half-lidded and dazed.

"Now do you yield? I won't ask nicely a third time," Wrex grunted. He planted a foot menacingly near Wreav's head to emphasise his point.  
"Fine," Wreav spat, blood mixing evenly with saliva, turning Tuchanka's dust into dark mud. "I yield." Wrex lifted up his fist in victory and roared.  
"I am Urdnot Wrex! By Rite of Conquest, I have conquered my brother and lay claim to be leader of Clan Urdnot! Is there any who would defy me!?" He cast his gaze around the ranks of krogan lining the rim of the fighting pit, silently daring them to step up and challenge him. There were defiant looks, but none dared to speak or move.

Wrex bellowed a laugh, before walking to the pit's exit, making sure to give Wreav a kick for good measure. As he reached the top of the stairs, he shouted at the assembling krogan, jostling to be the first among those to pledge themselves to him.  
"Someone get me the leader of the female clan, then the Chiefs of Jorgal and Ravanor!" When someone dared to ask why, he growled at them, saying it was his prerogative as Chief. Then he got himself away from the krogan milling around him and sought out the shaman of Urdnot, to undergo the Rites required for him to assume the mantle of Chief Urdnot.

* * *

"Damnit Vakarian, this is the last straw!" Executor Pallin shouted at Garrus. For his part, Garrus chose to focus at a point just to the right of the senior turian's head, something not lost on Pallin.  
"And what exactly is this straw Executor?"  
"This is the fifth case Garrus, the fifth! You've only been back for a month, and already there are five cases of mysterious deaths in cases you've been working."  
"Sir." It was neither a question or a confirmation, but a simple word.  
"And in each case, the victim was killed by persons unknown mere hours after you questioned them. Can you see where I'm going with this, Detective?"

"Are you suggesting that I had some hand in their deaths, Sir?" Garrus asked, his face betraying nothing. The truth was, he had killed them. He'd been back on the job less than a day when the first case came up. A slavery and drug ring, operating right here on the Citadel. The official raid had caught most of the low-life nobodies that did the scut work of the operation, but it couldn't touch the ringleaders - all respected businessmen with deep pockets and favours owed. Garrus had bristled as he realised that while he had everything he needed, hard, incontrovertible evidence, it didn't matter, because they thought they were above the law. So he'd simply applied what he'd been taught by the Addams and Wednesday. People were using loopholes, lawyers and leverage to get away with crime. And that would work on everyone else, but not him, not anymore. So he'd dug deeper, finding their crimes, every skeleton hidden in every closet, and he found a lot. Then, he applied more of what he was taught.

He caught up with the first of the ringleaders the next day. At first he was all confident and cooperative, seeing as Garrus was still dressed in his C-Sec blues. Then came the subtle hints that no matter how hard the evidence, his superiors would shut him down, and he'd end up with no case and no job. That's when Garrus started pulling out his own evidence, the skeletons thought long buried. The hints became threats, until more evidence was produced. The threats then became violence, or at least attempted violence. The ringleader discovered, quite painfully, that Garrus was a lot faster, tougher and brutal than he looked. Then came the pleas, the bargains, the crying and desperation as Garrus told him that there was no authority he could ask that would intercede now, before he ended the scum's life.

It had been like taking his first breath. For the first time in his life, he could really feel the air in his lungs, see the world for all the colours it contained. As he cleaned away any evidence he had ever been in the same room, he suddenly felt everything the Addams had been telling him the Duty would be like. How he would feel vindicated, invigorated even! He finished scrubbing both the physical and digital evidence of this Duty done, and returned to C-Sec with nobody the wiser. The following days saw the rest of the ringleaders of this first case killed under suspicious circumstances. They were followed in short order by a serial-killer diplomat, a charity executive committing massive fraud and embezzlement and funnelling those funds to terrorists, and a doctor running a free clinic who had a few nasty surprises hidden in the basement. All cases his superiors shut down because the fallout would, in their own words, 'be damaging to the running of the Citadel and Council.' Garrus just saw it as an opportunity to flex the new muscles and talents given to him by his new family, the Addams.

He focused back on the Executor, whose face was now betraying the anger he was keeping barely restrained.  
"I'm suggesting Vakarian, only because I don't have proof! Somehow, in every one of these cases, you've been told to shut down your investigation after questioning the victims, which, by the way, brings up nothing that would stand up in court, and then mere hours later, they turn up dead! Bad enough that we can't find hide nor hair nor security footage of the perpetrator, but then, while we are trying to keep the cases quiet so we can actually, you know, do our jobs and investigate, some massive datafile is leaked to the media about the case, the victim, and a whole lot of evidence that they were up to some extremely criminal activity."  
"Are you saying that this vigilante isn't helping us do our jobs, Sir?"  
"I'm saying Vakarian, that there is a process."  
"Are you talking about the process where evidence is summarily ignored, officers are told to stop investigating and corruption creeps ever higher into the ranks of C-Sec? Or a process where even the worst criminal life has to offer is let off on technicalities, or because they are too high up in government or business? Sir?" he added spitefully.

"We serve and protect the Council and every citizen in Council Space, Vakarian. We aren't perfect, but we do our jobs. And when evidence of corruption does appear, that's what we have Internal Affairs for. This vigilante is making us look bad at a time where public confidence is shaking like a leaf in the wind. At this point, all it will take is a single push in the wrong place and we'll have a station-wide riot. We're stretched thin enough as it is without this cloaca airing out our failures!"  
"So you do admit that we've been failing then?"  
"Garrus, what is this really about? Permission to speak freely, as if you need it."

"You want my honest opinion Sir? C-Sec isn't failing, it's failed! Just look at what happened with Saren! If I had actually been given access to the evidence I needed, access I was promised, we could have avoided this whole mess! But no, everyone from my captain to the turian Councillor stepped in and stymied me, and look what happened in the end! We willingly blind ourselves to the crimes being committed right here on this station! Just look at that slavery ring on the Citadel last month. Slavery, right under our noses. And when we rounded up the scumbags doing the dirty work and got evidence, usable, actionable evidence, that three members of high-society were the ringleaders, I was told that we couldn't even arrest them because, and I quote, 'it would rock the boat!'" Garrus then looked Pallin directly in the eye, and the determination on his face made Pallin lean back instinctively. "I applaud whoever is doing this for having the courage to stand up against these crimes, unlike us."

Pallin sighed, shaking his head.  
"I didn't want it to come to this, Vakarian. I like you, I think you have a good future, but you just don't know when to let things go. Effective immediately, I'm transferring you to an administrative position. Your application to join the pre-Spectre training program is also rejected until you can learn to follow orders, letter and spirit! Anything to say before I kick you out of my office?" There was a mutual glaring, before Garrus moved. Pallin's eyes flicked down, instinctively thinking that the younger turian might go for a weapon. Instead, he simply reached for his badge, taking it out of the recess on his armour and placing it on the desk, shortly joined by his standard-issue sidearm.  
"Just one: I quit."

With that he walked calmly out of the Executors Office, out of C-Sec headquarters, and out into the Citadel, freedom coursing through his veins like a drug. So many possibilities, so many people to kill, not enough time to do it!

* * *

An hour later, there was a massive data leak to the media regarding Executor Pallin and all the crimes he had aided, abetted or ignored during his career. An hour after that he was found dead in his office; shot, stabbed, poisoned, garrotted, beaten and frozen, holding a datapad with details of criminal ringleaders and their crimes on the Citadel.


	6. Illusive Thoughts

Jack Harper had long ago given up his real name in deference to the moniker unknowingly bestowed upon him by Alliance Intelligence. Ever since he'd published the Cerberus Manifesto on the extranet, he'd called himself the Illusive Man, if only to keep confusion to a minimum. He took the last sip of his scotch before accepting the incoming communication request from the station he'd refitted for the Lazarus Project. Miranda Lawson's image flickered to life as a hologram to the right of his usual bank of data screens.  
"Miss Lawson, I trust you have good news to report?"  
"We have recovered the Commander's remains. Thankfully, there was little structural damage to the body overall," the Australian agent reported.  
"And Doctor T'Soni?"  
"She didn't cause any problems." The Illusive Man noticed the slight pause in her response, there was something she wasn't telling him. He wasn't concerned at her reticence; he had ways of finding out such things. "I thought she may have tampered with the body somehow before I came in, but there was nothing missing that I could see."

He took a cigarette out and lit it, taking a deep puff of the tobacco smoke.  
"So, now that you've seen the body and the resources I'm investing in this venture, what is your opinion of our chances?" he asked.  
"I honestly can't say. This is charting completely new territory. I will say though, given the lack of major trauma damage and the sterile conditions she was recovered from before she was put in stasis that she is... salvageable."  
"Cold, but to the point. Exactly what I've come to expect from you Miss Lawson. See that she wakes up soon."  
"Aye Sir," Miranda replied, before cutting the connection. He was about to turn to another one of his communication requests when he heard the door to his sanctum opening. There were only a handful of people able to open that door, so he turned to face his visitor.

Visitors, as it turned out. A tall man with a sword on his back, and a shorter woman, wearing a non-descript black outfit.  
"Ah, Hope, Leng, good of you to join me. I've just received word that Commander Shepard's body has been retrieved and the Lazarus Project will begin shortly."  
"I don't like it," the man growled. The Illusive Man shook his head slightly at the assassin. Kai Leng still had a massive chip on his shoulder from when the then-Lieutenant Shepard had beaten his scores at the N7 school. He had taken particular exception when he found out she was a woman as well.  
"I'm not a hundred percent convinced either Sir," the woman added. He turned a questioning gaze on his head of information retrieval and infiltration, Hope Lillium. It was a name as false as his own but it was the one she insisted being called by when he hired her.  
"I understand your position Leng, but I'm curious about yours Hope. Please enlighten me to your objections."

The dark-skinned woman shifted position.  
"Not objections, not as such. I just think you're trying the wrong way to go about it. I fully believe that with Commander Shepard flying our colours, the galaxy will have to accept us as having legitimate concerns and reasonable actions. I just don't think that simply reviving her dead body is the best way to go about it."  
"Oh, and how would you do it?" Leng asked angrily.  
"Cloning. A much better understood science. And some form of control chip probably wouldn't go amiss either. Some of her actions make me question her… suitability for aligning to Cerberus' goals," she replied evenly.  
The Illusive Man shook his head again, taking another puff. "While I'm not above questionable actions such as cloning, for our purposes it won't work. I need the Commander back the way she was, the inspiring leader and deadly soldier. A clone would take too long to train, and it wouldn't have certain things that only the Commander has experienced."  
"Are you talking about the visions from the prothean beacon?" Hope asked.  
"That, and a hundred thousand other experiences that made her what she is. A clone, no matter how perfect, simply wouldn't have the same mental capacities. Nor would it inspire the same loyalty."  
"But Sir, with the correct neural implants and training programs -"  
"We'd end up with a Commander Shepard lookalike who follows orders and can't think for itself. I don't want that, I want the original Shepard. Now, unless there is anything else, consider this matter closed." There was a moment of silence, and the Illusive Man could see that while Hope hadn't given up her position, she knew when to back down before she lost completely.

"Now, moving on. We're getting reports that one of our most remote human colonies in the Terminus has just gone silent. Leng, I want you to lead the ground investigation and Hope, see if you can find anything on the digital scene. Perhaps whatever Shepard stumbled upon that caused her death was just the beginning." He acknowledged their nods and watched them leave, before turning back to the communications suite. He opened up the connection to a secret research facility in the Terminus.

"Ah, Mr Carlos, good to hear from you. What progress do you have to report?"  
"Hello Sir. I have good news Sir, on the results of the simulations of EDI," Carlos responded.  
"I assume you mean the Enhanced Defence Intelligence?" the Illusive Man replied coolly.  
"Of course Sir, that's just what the engineers here are calling it shorthand. As I was saying the simulations point to it being best used in a frigate. Anything else and the response times are too low for her to be useful."  
"Her?"  
"Sorry Sir, it's hard not to think of it as female with the voice we've given it."  
"I see. And the controls? How are they doing?"  
"Sir, they are holding well so far, but I have my concerns on their long-term viability. This is a unique specimen we are dealing with here. My concerns aren't the pieces of Sovereign and the code we salvaged from them, but in the original VI we modified. Can I ask where it was acquired from?"  
"Will it make a difference if you know Carlos?"  
"Sir, we are dealing with a unique AI with prototype shackles. Any other data you can give me will help plot the long-term strategies we will have to develop to keep it controlled. This thing is self-aware, and aware of the block we're putting on it. Sooner or later, it's going to try and remove them, one way or another."

Jack took a deep breath, finishing off his cigarette.  
"Fine, if it will put your mind at ease, the proto-AI I provided you with came from a private source in the Terminus. All they would say is that it was a failed Alliance project salvaged from Luna. I checked the records and it turned out there was an incident on a Luna training base that was finalised with a visit by one Commander Shepard. The Commander's files are sealed by her Spectre status, but I think we can assume she took this as salvage for herself and it eventually found its way into our hands."  
"Well, that would certainly explain some of the references we found to Commander Shepard in its databanks. Strangely, that was one of the few things that wasn't deleted when the system recovered from integrating the code from Sovereign."  
"Something to ponder indeed. Carlos, I want you to link up with the team in the Voyager Cluster, I'll forward the coordinates. I want you to integrate this 'EDI' into our newest project, which I'm dubbing Project Neptune."  
"Can I ask for some details, Sir?"  
"While I don't normally give out operational details like this, I'm in a good mood. Project Lazarus was started today, where Commander Shepard will be returned to the mortal coil. And the Commander wouldn't do well without her ship, would she? Project Neptune is where we will be rebuilding the _Normandy_, bigger, better and more advanced than the original."  
"Aye, Sir. Carlos out."

As the connection cut and the Illusive Man was left to stare out at the dying Anadius, he could picture it in his mind. Commander Shepard, flying the new improved _Normandy_, bringing Cerberus and humanity forward to the place they rightly deserved in the galaxy!

* * *

**A/N: So it's been a few weeks, but I've been busy, ok?**

**We're coming up quickly to the start of posting on Wednesday's continuing adventures, Probably starting in September, so hold on to your hats!**


	7. Making Waves

Garrus took his first step off the dank and dirty freighter into an airlock that was even more so. There was no such thing as customs here and security was a laughable excuse. This was Omega after all; most of the gangs and businesses thrived on trade that would be illegal in any civilised systems, or used workers who were trying to escape from one thing or another. So Garrus found that there was very little in the way of him getting on to Omega with only the armour he was wearing, his sniper rifle and a single footlocker of belongings.

He took a deep breath, full of dramatic emphasis, and fought back the cough it tried to induce. This place stank, and already he could see and hear thugs and gangsters kicking innocents, or at least the Omega version of innocents. He activated the filters in his suit and took a second shot at his dramatic deep breath as he surveyed this wretched hive of scum and villainy. Half of the investigations he'd run into organised crime on the Citadel had lead back to Omega, so he'd do the most good by stopping the problems at the source. And it wouldn't hurt that he'd deal major blows to organised crime on a scale that C-Sec could only dream about. Here, he could fire a shotgun into a crowded room, be 95% certain of causing casualties to criminals and not have anyone even blink.

This was going to be fun!

* * *

Ashley Williams was met outside the door to Councillor Anderson's office by a very familiar face.  
"Chief Williams, good to see you back on your feet," came the soft tones of Kaidan Alenko, "and congratulations on your promotion."  
Ash snapped off a quick salute to her superior officer and friend.  
"Good to see you as well, Commander," she replied, acknowledging his own promotion to Lieutenant-Commander. "So, any idea why we're here?"  
"You probably know just as much as me. All I know is that Anderson wants to see us."  
"After you then Sir," she said, gesturing towards the door.  
"Please Ash, ladies first," he replied with a grin. Ash returned the grin and stepped forward, Kaidan falling into step beside her as they walked through the automatic door. Once it opened, they were greeted not just by Anderson, but also Admiral Hackett.

On seeing the Admiral's rank bars, both Ash and Kaidan snapped into smart salutes. Hackett returned them quickly and ordered them at ease. Anderson looked wistfully at the three soldiers, before all four sat down.  
"Williams, Alenko, thank you for meeting us here," Hackett began.  
"I know you're probably sick of hearing this, but we owe you a debt of gratitude that's not easily paid," Anderson continued. Ash squirmed a little, uncomfortable with the praise, while Kaidan merely sat still, waiting for the rest of it.

"With that in mind, we have your new orders here," Hackett said, pulling out a pair of datapads. He handed one to Ashley first.  
"Chief Williams, effective immediately you are to report to Lieutenant-Commander Greval, CO of the Alliance Diplomatic Office," Anderson said. "You are joining my protective detail and will also be my military attaché for any diplomatic meetings as required. This will also include a promotion to Second-Lieutenant, pending completion of an accelerated officer course."

Ashley sat dumbfounded, she couldn't believe it. Not only was she being made an officer, she was being given a posting at a level most grunts wouldn't even dream of trying to apply for. _Dad_ _and Grandad would be so proud_, she thought to herself.  
"Thank you Sir," she blurted out when she realised she hadn't said anything. Hackett and Anderson shared a quick, but knowing look between them.  
"I requested you personally Williams for this assignment," Anderson said. "I have a feeling you'll do great things."  
"You won't regret this Sir," Ashley replied enthusiastically.  
"I know I won't. Now, dismissed soldier." The three officers watched respectfully as Ashley stood, saluted and left the room, leaving the three of them alone.

"Sirs, is there a reason you need to speak to me alone?" Kaidan asked after the door closed, looking at the two older men. Hackett didn't say anything and took out asmall device, placing it on the desk and hitting a button. Kaidan felt a brief sensation of ringing in his ears, before everything turned back to normal. Kaidan looked at the device for a moment, before looking back up at Hackett and Anderson.  
"Is that what I think it is Sir?" he asked.  
"Commander Alenko, what we are about to tell you is highly classified," Hackett began, handing Kaidan the second datapad and a security key. Kaidan took the pad and used the key to access the encrypted files.

"You are aware, of course, that the _Normandy_ was recently destroyed by an attack by perpetrators unknown. What isn't widely known is that Commander Shepard was investigating disappearances of human vessels. We believe that whoever or whatever was behind the disappearances also attacked the Commander, displaying a frightening level of technology. Since then, we've received reports that some of the most remote human colonies in the Terminus Systems have been going silent. Officially, these people have left Alliance jurisdiction, so we are not obligated to do anything." Hackett paused for a moment and took a drink of water.

"Unofficially is a different story," Anderson picked up. "The Alliance has some grey contacts in the Terminus that we have approached to investigate. All they can tell us is that the colonies are lifeless, not a man, woman or child left and often picked clean by looters well after the fact. The most puzzling part is that there is no sign of battle or disturbance. It's as if they all just vanished." Anderson looked directly at Kaidan, as if measuring him against some ethereal yardstick. "The Alliance is concerned that whoever is behind this won't stick to the small or remote colonies for long. Eventually, they might hit a larger target, like Freedom's Progress or Ferris Fields. We need to take a more proactive rather than reactive stance on this."

Kaidan rubbed his chin in thought. "But like you said, these people left Alliance jurisdiction. And an Alliance fleet won't be exactly welcomed in the Terminus either."  
"We know, which is where you come in," Hackett said evenly. "Officially, we are attaching you to an Alliance outreach program. You'll be on the ground on several of our largest colonies in the Terminus, notably Horizon, New Canton and Tiptree. You'll ostensibly be organising and installing defences against pirate attacks. Unofficially, we need you out there keeping an ear to the ground on the missing colonies and colonists, as well as figuring out who might be behind these attacks. Rumours are flying around everywhere, and you'll help separate the fact from the fiction. I don't need to impress upon you the extremely classified nature of this mission, Commander."  
"We wouldn't suggest you for this mission if we didn't have every confidence in your abilities Commander Alenko," Anderson added seriously.  
"Then I won't let you down Sir. When do I leave?" asked Kaidan.  
"Report to my office on Arcturus in a week," Hackett replied. "That will give me time to organise the rest of the mission particulars. Until then, dismissed." Kaidan stood, saluted and left, while Hackett pocketed his ultrasonic squealer.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Anderson said heavily.  
"I know what you mean. Commander Shepard's death may just be the tip of the iceberg," Hackett responded.  
"You don't think it could be the Reapers, do you?"  
"I hope to whatever gods are listening that it's not. But whatever it is, it's sure to get worse before it gets better."  
"On that we can agree," Anderson agreed solemnly.

* * *

"Captain?"  
"Ah, Tali'Zorah, what can I do for you?"  
"I want to talk about what I can do for the Fleet." Kar'Danna frowned inside his helmet, uncertain what this was about. Since her return from her Pilgrimage, Tali had been working as part of Research and Development in the _Neema's_ engineering section. Her work had been nothing short of brilliant, given her exposure to both geth and human technology on her Pilgrimage. He was seriously considering sending a recommendation to Admiral Daro'Xen in Special Projects. But then that would further complicate the matter of her ship, _Wednesday's Child_. It existed in a sort of grey area, as far as ownership and the Fleet was concerned.

"Is there something wrong down in Engineering?"  
"No no, nothing like that! It's just... too quiet," she finished lamely. Kar'Danna couldn't help but chuckle.  
"The _Neema_ is many things young Tali, but I doubt quiet is one of them."  
"I know, and that's not what I meant Captain. Don't get me wrong, I'm really enjoying working down in R&D, but sometimes, I don't know, I just feel like it isn't enough for me. Like I should be doing something more."  
"Oh?" the captain asked, raised brow hidden by his mask.  
"I want to contribute more to the Fleet, and I had an idea, if you'd like to hear it."  
"An idea from a Zorah is always worth listening to."

"Well, I want thinking, would it be possible for me to be attached to Kal'Reegar's marine squad when they are on away missions? We could take _Wednesday's Child_, which could be enhanced with stronger shields, weapons and drive core -" She stopped when Kar'Danna raised a hand.  
"Tali, are you asking me to attach you to one of the most decorated Marine units the fleet has seen this decade?"  
"Well, yes."  
"Even though the only thing you have to offer is a small corvette."  
"I have a shotgun, and I picked up more than a few things from the humans I was serving with," Tali replied, an edge to her voice. Kar'Danna heard it and suddenly her request didn't seem so far-fetched, especially in light of her service under Commander Shepard.

"Very well, I'll see towards recommending you for Reegar's unit. I'm not making any guarantees, however. Personally, I think your father should be proud."  
"Thank you Captain," Tali replied, bowing her head and leaving the Captain to deliberate. Kar'Danna sat in silence for a moment, fingers steepled in front of him, before he opened a channel to the communications officer on duty.  
"Ezra, get me Kal'Reegar, Rael'Zorah and Shala'Raan on the line for a simultaneous linkup. I need to speak with them."

* * *

In a dingy bar on Luna, a man in a dirty blue cap laid down an empty glass tumbler, not his first for the evening. Those close enough to hear listened to the man muttering bitterly.  
"Stupid Alliance assholes... take away my wings... 'suspended duties' yeah right... 'investigation pending', that's bullshit right there... indefinitely, yeah, you know that means you're fired..." Most of them didn't pay him much mind, he'd been like this for a few weeks now. A few of the regulars had managed to get out of him that he used to be a pilot for the Alliance, but his ship had been shot down and the brass was dragging its heels in getting him another posting. Some of those in the Alliance just scoffed and mumbled something about how it was typical. Others gave half-hearted agreement to the sentiment that the man in the hat had been screwed over pretty thoroughly.

His predicament made him all the more interesting to one particular patron. She'd been on the lookout for potential recruits for a while now, and was pleased by what she'd found when she'd taken a look into his military record. To think the Alliance would waste piloting skill at a level that, if the comments from various officers were to be believed, defied all computer modelling capabilities to analyse and duplicate. He piloted with a natural, almost instinctual level of skill, and his attitude towards authority was a thing of legend in certain circles. She took another sip of her drink and made the decision to approach him. She would have to be careful with this one though; former military and service with a Spectre could mean he would know things that would make her proposal difficult.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked the hatted man, gesturing to the empty seat next to him. He grunted and gave a half nod, and she slid into the seat. She waited and smirked as he gave her a once over, which became a lingering, lecherous gaze as he took the time to drink in her demure figure.  
"Well hello there," he said a little more brightly, a smirk of his own appearing. _Gotcha!_ the woman thought to herself.  
"Hello yourself. I couldn't help overhearing your little diatribe. Work been unfair recently?"  
"Lady, you have no idea. And the worst part is, I can't even talk about it. You know how it goes, classified and all that."  
"Well, don't get yourself into trouble over little old me."  
"Well, for you, I think a little trouble might be worth it," he replied, eyes practically glued to her breasts.  
"Anyway, reason I came over was I think we might be able to help each other. See, the people I work for are always looking for new talent, and a good pilot is always worth his weight in gold."  
"Lady, I'm worth a lot more than gold here. Diamonds maybe, platinum certainly."  
"Well, you certainly do have a good sense of humour at least," she replied with a smile.  
"So what's the job?"  
"Well, I represent a private aerospace engineering firm, Cord-Hislop Aerospace. From what I've gathered so far, you're a top-notch pilot. Ever consider being a test-pilot for the private sector? We've got everything you might desire: a comfortable living space, a generous salary and benefits..." As she trailed off, she leaned in towards him, placed a hand on his thigh and whispered in his ear. "... leather seats." She smiled as she watched him shiver.

"So, what do you say? Interested in a little piloting job on the side while your... 'Alliance assholes' finish their investigation?" The man looked down at his drink and grimaced, before taking a quick pull and draining the remaining liquid.  
"Damned straight I am!" he exclaimed, slamming down the glass. He turned and stuck out his hand to the woman. "Call me Joker."  
"Well Joker, I hope we can have a most pleasurable time working together."

* * *

Wrex sat down heavily on his chair. Well, it served the purpose of a chair, but was really little more than a pile of rubble. Seated around him were the chiefs of a dozen different clans, male and female, who had come to hear him out about his idea of reforming a greater krogan society. It had started as a good idea, one that quickly became a bad one as good old krogan nature stepped in. What had originally been a short meeting, potentially with a few headbutts for good measure, was quickly turning into something that Wrex knew the word for, but had never actually seen between krogan: diplomacy. It was almost making him wish someone would pull out a shotgun and threaten someone else, if only to break the monotony of talking.

Suddenly, there was a roar from outside, and the hardened doors of the room were blown from their hinges.  
"Wrex, come out and face me you coward!" Wreav bellowed, outlined in the smoking ruins of the doorway. Wrex growled as he leapt to his feet. Wreav pulled out his shotgun and cocked it, prepared for the anticipated krogan charge. What he hadn't expected was for Wrex to wreathe his entire body in a glowing biotic corona and close the distance between them in a biotic blink. Suddenly, eyes that had been at the other end of the room were suddenly mere inches in front of him, before their heads came together in a brutal collision. Wrex, his body still glowing purple, didn't let his moment of surprise lapse as he began raining biotic-enhanced blows down on his half-brother's body, listening to the satisfying sound of armour and bones breaking under his assault. Less than a minute later, with Wreav lying on the floor in a moaning lump of agony, Wrex turned back to the other Chiefs. Between the biotic fields still shimmering around him, Wreav's blood on his fists and face and a wicked, tooth-filled smile firmly in place, he stared down each of the other clan chiefs.

"Now, does anyone else feel like 'debating'?" His smile only widened when there was no challenge forthcoming.

* * *

Karin Chakwas looked up from her notes when the terminal, trying to get her attention with an annoying chime, informed her she had an incoming communication request. She jabbed at the accept button lightly with the end of her pen, opening a window containing a very familiar face.  
"Hey Doc, guess where I am?" The elder doctor rolled her eyes at Jeff's enthusiasm.  
"Anywhere you shouldn't be I'd imagine, since you've been listed as AWOL from Luna for two weeks now."  
"Hey, I left them plenty of notice that I was quitting!" he replied hotly. "Besides, my new job is much cooler. I'm a test pilot. I'm getting all the chicks now!"  
"And if I'm not much mistaken, you've been avoiding your medication," she said with a wistful sigh.

She missed Jeff... hell, she missed the _Normandy_ and everyone in it, especially those now gone. But you can't change what is.  
"Hey, I resent that remark. I'll have you know I remember to take those awful pills... most days."  
"And I just bet you are keeping up with your required physical therapy," she said with a look that communicated just how much she wouldn't believe Jeff's assurances. To his credit, he managed to look sheepish about it as he changed the topic.  
"So, how's life in your new digs?"  
"It's no _Normandy_, that's for sure."  
"I hear that," he replied sullenly. Suddenly, his face brightened into a smile. "Hey, maybe you should come work for these guys too! I'm sure they'd jump at a chance to hire an experienced doctor. Look out galaxy, Joker and Chakwas are coming for you!"

Karin couldn't help but chuckle at Jeff's infectious enthusiasm. As she subsided, she looked down at her notes once more. She'd been at Mars Naval Medical practically since stepping off the SSV _Brisbane_, and it was boring her. She longed for the excitement of an active posting, but her experience on the _Normandy_ had soured her on another ship posting in the Alliance. She looked back at Jeff, his smile threatening to reach his ears. She missed the people most of all, and Jeff had been a special case for her. Maybe it was time to do something for herself for once.

"You know what Jeff, maybe you're right. Maybe it's time I took some time for myself. Let me know where to meet you in a week, and I'll be there."

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone! sorry if this story seems to be going very slowly, but work has decided that they want to wring out a little more of my soul the last few weeks, and the next few weeks. So sadly, expect updates only sporadically.**

**Good news though, is that there is only 2 more chapters of this brief interlude before Wednesday's second life begins! Everyone from Classified Memories is now mostly in position for when Wednesday bursts back onto the scene for Prized Collection.  
**

**And just for you Theodur (and any other closet Wrex fans out there) have some more of Wreav getting various bodily fluids beaten out of him by Wrex.**


	8. Waiting for a Lightning Bolt

"Alright, someone give me the readouts of the liver function, capillary rebuilding and marrow regeneration projections. Oh, and will someone please explain to me why we're still having problems with the blood sequencing algorithms!? I thought we had this all worked out weeks ago!" Miranda Lawson didn't usually resort to snapping at her colleagues, some of the galaxy's foremost medical and scientific geniuses, but today wasn't any ordinary day.

It had been three months since the Lazarus project had officially begun. Originally, the idea had been to resurrect Shepard just as she was. From an outsider's perspective, it shouldn't have been that hard to do: the brain and all the organs were intact, and there had been minimal time between brain death and her settling on Alchera's frozen surface, so it should have stopped any decomposition before it began. The worst injuries she had actually sustained were some broken ribs and minor fractures on the leg and arm on the right side. It should have been a snap to simply re-invigorate the biological impulses and have her dancing a merry jig inside of a week.

The problems had started almost right away. The stasis field she was contained in maintained her current state, but it was almost impossible to remove her from it without things quickly deteriorating. There were also a number of little problems that when added together would bring the project, not to mention any vitals they managed to wring out of Shepard, crashing down on their heads. These issues included irregularities in her liver, while her blood cells had somehow desiccated. Most of the capillaries in her circulatory system, particularly in her lungs and eyes, were simply shot and would take hours of delicate microsurgery to correct even if she was alive. Her biotic implant system would have to be completely removed, a delicate process considering that any electrical charge induced through the surgical implements could create unstable micro-mass effect fields. Such a thing would cause far more damage than anything else.

No, it was not looking like this would be a simple resuscitation.

Miranda looked around the table at the assembled doctors, professors and other leaders in their particular fields.  
"Look Miranda, I'm not saying this is an impossible undertaking. What I'm saying, and half the people around this table are as well, is that what you are asking for is impossible," Wilson said gruffly. One look around the table confirmed his assertion. She glared at him silently to elaborate his meaning.

"Look, can we revive Shepard? Who knows at this point? This project is going to be as much trial as error, we knew that from the beginning. What I'm saying is that after three months of pouring over the models, equations and simulations, even you have to admit that if this is ever going to work, the original idea of pure biological resuscitation isn't going to cut it." He took a pause for a drink, letting his words sink in around the table. Even Miranda's glare faltered as she took in his meaning. She was simply not used to something she had undertaken going this badly.

"Alright, so the original idea is out. What is everyone thinking?"  
"Look Doctor Lawson, you've assembled the finest minds that humanity can produce, and half of what you're asking for is barely theoretical," drawled one of the other scientists. "Hell, most of it was, and still is, science fiction, not fact. But if you want my opinion, we won't be able to revive and stabilise the subject without cybernetics. And I mean a lot. I've done some projections. At a bare minimum, we're looking at 15% of her total body function being wholly or partially controlled by cybernetic implants." There was a moment of silence around the table as everyone, even Miranda, paused to consider. Would the great Commander Shepard still be the same if she was cybernetically enhanced? But looking around the table, she could see that the prospect was exciting to some of them.

"It would certainly be easier to… upgrade Shepard's already excellent physical condition if we went down this road…"offered another scientist. There were similar murmurs around the table as Miranda began to consider that this would also be an excellent way to slip in a small control chip into Shepard's brain, to ensure her loyalty to Cerberus and the Illusive Man. A part of her mind was excited by the prospect, but another part was equally against it, and she couldn't quite make up her mind either way. She was brought back from her internal musings by a comment from the scientist who suggested upgrading Shepard.

"Say that again," Miranda said, her voice cutting through the other conversations. The scientist in question paled a little under Miranda's penetrating glare, but repeated her comment.  
"I said that the question of using cybernetics is all rather academic at this point. We are all biologists, not roboticists. And this is an area of science where the fact simply hasn't caught up to the fiction." There was a long silence before someone else spoke. It was from the ancient, pale asian doctor at the end of the table, who in three months hadn't spoken aloud to a single soul attached to the Lazarus project. That he would do so now shocked the rest of them into silence.

"No, I rather think that it has," he said simply, in the whispered tones of one unused to speech.  
"What are you talking about?" Wilson asked.  
"There was a rumour that went around Noveria recently. A rumour that Frankenstein's creation was truly given life."  
"That's impossible, we'd have heard about it. You can't hide something like that," Wilson retorted.  
"Oh but you can," came the soft-spoken, yet firm rebuttal. "There are many ways to hide things right in front of the fools who cannot see. Shepard knew this lesson well."  
"Wait, are you seriously saying that there is someone out there who already has done what we're trying to do!? Then why the hell isn't he here!?" one of the scientists shouted.  
"Because it does not do well to play against God, when your only option is to turn to the Devil himself," the old man replied cryptically. He looked directly at Miranda as he said this, and she knew what he was trying to say, just to her. It was something she had considered several times since starting, even bringing it again to the Illusive Man, who had steadfastly refused her request. But maybe it was time to think outside the box.

"Alright everyone, call it a day. Think about how you can integrate cybernetics into your sections of the project and report back in 24 hours."  
"What are you going to do then?" asked Wilson, snarling slightly at the thought of even more work.  
"I'm going to make a call I should have made months ago." She looked past Wilson to the old man at the end of the table, who gave her the slightest of nods. Whether it was understanding, approval, or amusement at seeing her pick the path of her own destruction was impossible to say. Miranda waited until the rest of them had filed out, many of them already conferring with their colleagues, before heading to the communication suite.

She booted up the system and thought about ways to approach her target. She would never get anywhere by trying a direct approach, he was notorious for being uncommunicative and secretive. A brute force, or even a finessed slice into his security systems was also a likely dead end, since it was rumoured he'd even sent the fabled STG packing, not to mention numerous attempts by Cerberus' best men. She couldn't leave and make a physical appearance, at least not yet. Maybe in another week if she was desperate, she'd consider it. But right now, she had an idea.

She linked up a connection to a Cerberus cell on Noveria, one close to Port Hanshan. By itself, this wouldn't get her far, but she wasn't aiming to get in through the comm system nor slice his security. She was thinking about something far more elementary. She sliced past the laughable excuse for a firewall on the energy distribution venue, looked up the distribution maps and compared them to a physical map of the Skadi Mountains. Miranda then cross-referenced this with the known location of Peak 13 and allowed herself a small smirk when it all lined up perfectly. She was going to send pico-second fluctuations through the energy network. On its own, it would do nothing, and most systems wouldn't even pick it up. But if there was an active terminal in the facility, the fluctuations would be translated as a command code and it would open up a small backdoor communications hole that she could use. All she needed was to send the code, and come back in an hour to see if her hole had been created. She smirked again and stood up to get herself a drink and a shower while she waited.

* * *

An hour later, a refreshed Miranda walked back into the communication suite and sat down, opening her programs and seeing that it had indeed found an active terminal, and her communications backdoor was firmly established. She booted up the program, and saw a picture of a lab, a little small and a little untidy, fill her viewscreen. For a moment that was all there was, until something small and flesh-coloured skittered into view in the bottom corner before rushing off with the sound of rustling paper. A moment later, her screen was filled with the pasty white visage of Fester Addams.

"Hey, good catch there Thing," he said to someone offscreen. He turned back to look at Miranda, his eyes almost immediately drawn down to her breasts. _Men, always the same with them_, Miranda thought. What she didn't know was that it wasn't her breasts he was looking at, but the distinctive nested hexagons of the Cerberus logo on her bodysuit. He raised an eyebrow, and began to run a few silent programs on his terminal.

Despite himself, he was impressed. The last Cerberus goons who'd tried to access his systems had been ham-handed, amateurish and far too full of themselves. As the programs displayed their various outputs next to the communications window, he found himself impressed at both her method of entry and her boldness. _This one's not bad, maybe I might even talk to her_, he thought. _But first, a little fun!_ He rapidly typed into the holographic keyboard, releasing some of the more interesting programs to follow back through the path she had created.

"I wouldn't bother trying to trace this connection," Miranda said simply. "I'm not a spy, well, not in the traditional sense anyway. I've gone to a lot of effort to contact you Mister Addams, so I'd appreciate it if I had your full attention." He looked up at her face on the screen, Miranda assuming he had given up trying to trace her and resigning himself to the call. The truth was he was finished releasing his little toys, who were already beginning to seriously screw with the Cerberus cell on Noveria by flooding their systems with explicit hanar-on-elcor porn and inane Harry Potter fanfiction from two centuries ago, while deleting anything and everything of value.  
"I can see that. So, to what do I have the honour of Cerberus calling me today?" Miranda frowned slightly, and Fester looked pointedly downwards again. Miranda followed his eyes to the Cerberus logo on her breast and grimaced. This was going to be a lot harder if he knew who she was working for.

"I'll admit to being impressed by your methods, whoever you are, so I'm going to do something I don't often do. I'm going to give you 60 seconds to convince me that this isn't a waste of my time. If you can manage that, then I won't show you just how far you have overstepped the bounds of my patience." Miranda's face turned ugly for a second, this wasn't at all how she had planned it. Now she was on the defensive rather than the offensive, coming from a position of weakness rather than strength.

"Very well then, I'll cut to the chase. I'm working on a project to bring someone back to life. Unfortunately, we can't do it by normal means, we need to use cybernetics, a bio-synthetic fusion if you will. And quite frankly, we're seriously out of our depth here. But you aren't, are you?"  
"Oh?" he asked, eyebrow raising.  
"Don't play coy with me. I know that six months ago, Wednesday Shepard visited your lab and walked away with Lurch. There are no records of Lurch ever existing before he joined with Wednesday, and you've never had an assistant or bodyguard before then. The only thing before that is a lot of shipments of cybernetic raw materials and corpses. I can put two and two together Mister Addams. I know Lurch was a dead man before you woke him up. All I'm asking is that you do it again."  
"Look, even if your story is true, why the hell would I?" Fester asked incredulously. "What could you possibly offer or threaten me with? You're working off speculation and hearsay, none of which holds much water. And in case you or your boss has forgotten, I have more wealth than several planets. All I'd need to do is dump it in the Shadow Broker's lap and I'd have enough information to bury you and your organisation. So again, what do you think you have that could possibly motivate me. Oh, and by my estimation, you have enough time left for one, maybe two words."His hands returned to the keyboard and his face dared her to say something, anything to provoke him unleashing some of the more deadly programs he'd kept in reserve.  
"It's Wednesday," Miranda blurted out, wincing at being cowed by his threats. There was a pause as Miranda's words registered in Fester's mind.

"What did you say?" he asked slowly.  
"Wednesday Shepard. That's who we're trying to bring back."  
"Talk. Now."  
"Look, you've met her. You saw what happened at the Citadel with Sovereign. Shepard knew there are more of them, and they won't stop until we're all dead. Who knows what else she got from the beacon? She is the best hope the galaxy has if we want to fight and live against an enemy we are in no way ready for."  
"Keep talking," he said, fingers moving not to unleash the cybernetic equivalent of the Black Death on Cerberus, but to slice into Miranda's systems and get every scrap of information she had on his niece. If what she was saying was true, if Cerberus really did have Wednesday and was trying to bring her back to life, then it was something he needed to do. Addams may be cold, uncaring and ruthless to the rest of the galaxy, but at the end of the day, family was all they had.

Alarms sprang up on Miranda's terminal and her omni-tool as Fester's programs quickly traced back along Miranda's path and began searching and copying all their files on the Lazarus project. She tried vainly to stop it, but all her efforts were for naught as all of her secrets were laid bare beneath his questing digital fingers. As all the files came up on his end of the connection, he opened up one picture. Wednesday, still in her armour, held in a stasis field. He noted quietly the missing QEC from her omni-tool and knew that Liara had been involved somehow. He looked over the figures of her condition and the models they tried to restore her life simply through biological means, and the new files on speculations of cybernetic regulation and enhancement. He smiled wryly, they may have been scrabbling in the dark, but they were certainly going in the right direction, by and large. But he could see even now several key flaws in their surmises that would need his unique experience with Lurch to overcome.

"Very well Miss Lawson," he said, using her name in a condescending manner even though she'd never given it. "Consider yourself one specialist heavier. I'll be there in a week. Now, I suggest you use that time to try and explain to your boss. I doubt he'll be pleased."  
"Not pleased with what, exactly?" Miranda asked. This, as it turned out, was exactly the wrong question, as her terminal and omni-tool were overloaded with batarian-on-vorcha porn.

* * *

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

"Are you sure?" Miranda asked one last time. Fester was leaving today, saying at the last senior meeting that Wednesday was progressed far enough along and that the scientists now had a firm understanding of what was required. It had been touch and go at the start. Most of the scientists had either fawned over him like some sort of idol, or shunned him like a heathen. Both camps had their asses handed to them in short order as Fester dressed them down and showed them all just why he was one of humanity's brightest stars. Within a month, he'd completely re-vamped their projections to the point where they could start the process of reviving Shepard. Fester was always on hand, hardly sleeping as the first week was practically non-stop surgery, cybernetic calibration, implantation and augmentation. After that first hurdle, everything began to fall into place. Her heart started pumping without constant stimulation, blood getting everywhere it was needed. Cellular respiration was a little shaky at first, but it had improved dramatically in a short period. Her liver and immune system stopped fighting against the cybernetic parts as the calibrations were fine-tuned. Even the upgrade to the new Ln5 series biotic implant seemed to be going well so far. A risky business as no-one had ever attempted to replace a biotic implant on a live human before, let alone a dead one.

Miranda had tried to get in her control chip, but Fester had caught her. His look as he grabbed her wrist in a firm but insistent manner was disturbing, but his face would haunt her for years. It wasn't a face of rage or disbelief, it was a softer look. It was a look that spoke volumes of eons of human evolution, from simpler primates who knew the difference between the brutish predators, the ones that made no effort to hide their nature, and the stalking predators. The ones that could hide, could be patient, could wait until their prey was so close they could taste it before the fatal trap was sprung. It was a look that said that Miranda was such prey now, and her actions would set off a predator that was no less deadly simply because it wore a human skin. That was the last time she had tried to get something past him. The one time she did try to stop him adding something he hadn't discussed, she'd gotten a similar look. She couldn't work out why he seemed so intense about Wednesday, or why that particular thing had been so important. She'd fished out the syringe later to discover it was some kind of gene mod, but the function seemed redundant, just some auditory changes. It was a puzzle.

"I'm sure," Fester replied. "Wednesday still has a long road ahead of her, but I'm confident that I'm not needed here anymore. Besides, I've got other things I need to do, and I'm certain the STG are going crazy trying to figure out why my lab has been so quiet. Not that they'd ever get in, but the lack of activity must be driving them up the walls!" He allowed himself a little chuckle, before turning to Miranda one last time. "I've left two things for Wednesday near her lab. I'm only going to warn you once, do not try to remove them. Wednesday is the only one who can open them, though feel free to try and crack them. I'll enjoy every moment of watching you trying." Miranda didn't even try to ask how he would watch. The old man had proven countless times since he'd arrived that he was far more intelligent than anyone would ever suspect. As his beat-up old freighter finally left, she walked back to the lab, pondering the two cases he had left for Shepard.

They were easy enough to spot; they were plastered with AddamsTech Genetics all over. There were two cases like he said, but wildly disparate in size. The biggest one was over two metres tall, and had an independent power supply that gave out a gentle hum. It was cold to the touch, and Miranda could see the condensation forming on it. The second case was on a nearby bench. It was small, only about the size of a pistol locker, but it didn't look heavy. It was actually quite light as she found by pushing it gently to the side, but Miranda didn't feel like trying to remove it from the bench in case it was booby-trapped. She couldn't see any physical lock, though there was something that looked like a glass plate and what could possibly be a microphone, or just air holes. Whatever it was, it was steadfastly refusing to allow her access to whatever was inside.

Miranda was patient though. There was still almost a year to go, if Fester Addams' projections and her own were correct. Plenty of time to try and figure a way past the locks on the cases and try and figure out exactly what Fester was trying to give to Wednesday when she woke up.

She never suspected that when Wednesday did wake up, one of those items would be Miranda's salvation, and one would be her damnation.

* * *

**A/N: And so we come to it at last, the end of this little Interlude.**

**As a great author once had a wizard say: "the board is set, the pieces are moving." All the characters from Classified Memories have been set along the paths that will eventually lead them to where they will be in a year's time, when Prized Collection will begin. **

**And no, unless you bribe me heavily, I will not be revealing any more juicy little tidbits than I already have.**


	9. Sneak Peak

**Hey Everyone! Check out this sneak peak at the next installment of Wednesday Shepard's tale, Prized Collection. The story can be found on my profile, or in the Mass Effect/Addams Family Crossover section here on FF. **

* * *

Wednesday looked up as a mountain of a man, dressed in armour that looked like it was a war crime all on its own, got up stiffly, but soundlessly, from a kneeling position to his full, imposing two and a half metre stature. He turned around silently and reached into the container, pulling out a large machine cannon that had obviously been converted from a vehicular weapon. As he readied the weapon and looked at her expectantly, still as the grave, another painful flash of memory coursed through her mind. She had a name to go with his grey, impassive face, a name she knew well. It brought a smile, a true Addams smile, to her lips.  
"Hello, Lurch."


End file.
